


You've Got A Friend Or Whatever

by MiddlingTheBest



Series: Friends on Either Side [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Gen, Mild Gore, Platonic Relationships, Remus being inappropriate, Virgil being anxious, aggressive shows of affection, all comfort, brief suggestive themes, hand holding, minimal hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddlingTheBest/pseuds/MiddlingTheBest
Summary: Living with the light sides, hugs and touches were thrown around like confetti. Moving to living with Virgil and Remus, Janus never realised how free that affection used to be. Now, navigating the new relationships on the dark side of the mindscape, Janus thinks that between the three of them, the little moments they made had the potential to be so much better than that. It was just going to take a bit of time.In which Janus totally wouldn't like a hug.A "behind the scenes" of a main fic but it can be read on its own x
Series: Friends on Either Side [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798408
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	1. Virgil

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This takes place in the same universe as the main story (Friends On The Other Side) but as I said, it can be read alone. It's just a little bit of fluff, nothing's given away from the main story. I didn't want to post it entirely separately from the main fic because it follows the story's timeline but that's all that ties them together. They'll have their proper names next chapter when Remus shows up.

Anxiety didn’t like to be touched. That was fine, Deceit wasn’t exactly big on physical contact either. The transition from living with the light sides to living with Anxiety had been jarring in so many different ways that the lack of touch had barely registered with Deceit for a long time. He had never sought out the occasional hugs from Morality, the painful claps on the back from Creativity, or the handshakes from Logic, and he hadn’t missed them when they were gone. 

When Anxiety had tensed under his hand the first time Deceit had reached over to comfort him, Deceit had learned different ways to do so. His early flinches at accidental brushes in the hall or on the couch had quietened to shying away when Deceit got too close, an automatic reaction that Deceit wasn’t sure he was aware of but respected by keeping his distance.

Deceit had never sought out the touches of the other sides but he had never been starved of them. It took a long time for him to notice, and longer still for it to bother him, but there were times, like tonight, when he was very aware of it.

It wasn’t often that Deceit was not wearing his entire outfit, the only exception being that he rarely wore his hat in the dark side of the mindscape, but even he changed clothes at night regardless of how rare a sight it was. Despite the hour, he was up, resting in the chair in his own room and trying not to think too hard about Anxiety doing the same in the living room. It had been… a bad day to say the least. Anxiety insisted that he could get a handle on it, that if he was left to just focus then he could get himself and Thomas calmed down. Deceit had reluctantly left him to it.

The younger side had left his room when he noticed himself spiralling, an impressive feat and Deceit had told him so, and they had spent several hours in silence. Movies had been played back to back until outside it had grown dark and Thomas had taken himself to bed to attempt to sleep. Deceit had followed suit, leaving Anxiety on the couch as he had requested, the other side choosing to sleep there instead of his own room tonight, and then they waited. Thomas was still awake, he knew; his racing heart and mind wouldn’t be letting him sleep anytime soon, and Deceit did his best to sooth over some of the fears keeping him up. Helping to hide away some of Anxiety’s more outlandish concerns gave the anxious side’s own repetitive reassurances a fighting chance of taking root in Thomas’s mind. It had been working, to an extent, but after a while of things not getting better, Anxiety started to get worse.

Deceit gave it a minute, and then another, before putting his book aside and taking his gloves from his pocket, slipping out of his seat and through to the living room before he could get caught up in Anxiety’s turmoil. Pulses of stress beat through the mindscape with Thomas’s heart, a clenching pressure that tightened around his bones as he made his way to the other side.

Anxiety was curled up on the couch, barely visible under his mound of blankets. His lips moved along desperately with a breathing exercise that he wasn’t following, too focused on the words to take the breaths, and he lay with his eyes squeezed shut, trembling with the pressure of keeping himself tucked so tight in a ball. His electric candle sat on the table directly in front of his face, casting light over his darkened eyes; a pretence of safety as it struggled to chase the shadows from the room. Deceit tugged his gloves on, the bright yellow almost glowing in the dim as he crept to Anxiety’s side.

He was slow to approach, keeping quiet, but Anxiety startled nonetheless. Purple eyes snapped open when Deceit moved the candle to the side, an angry whine crawling from his throat that Deceit gently shushed. He held his hands up in a show of peace, the yellow finally given a chance to shine in the flickering light, and he perched on the table where the candle had been. There was a comfortable distance between them, one that Deceit had been figuring out for months and had finally settled on. Out of arms reach, Deceit would have to lean forward to touch Anxiety, and while he wasn’t planning on doing anything of the sort, the security of a warning helped ease some of the other side's fears. Tonight, like any other night, Deceit was just there to sit. Once he was settled and Anxiety had reassured himself of what was happening, he went straight back to his counting, eyes closed in desperate concentration. Deceit counted along.

Four. Seven. Eight. Four. Seven. Eight.

It took a long time for Anxiety to calm himself back down to where he was before Deceit had left. Deceit had zoned out in the first few minutes, counting aloud as Anxiety went quiet and followed, finally focused on breathing instead of the numbers. A brighter flicker of the candle brought him slowly back to himself, his eyes drifting over to watch it before he realised the room was almost peaceful. He looked over to see Anxiety still lying on the couch, tucked up in a more comfortable ball as some of the tension had left him and allowed his legs to unstick themselves from his chest. He finished his repetition and waited, watching for any kind of reaction from Anxiety, and when nothing more than a slight hitch of breath came from his silence he stood to leave.

Nudging the candle back to where Anxiety had had it before, he had rounded the table before rustling from the couch made him pause.

“Wait?”

The request was soft but desperate and the first unprompted word Anxiety had spoken to him all day. He turned back to the couch, the dim flicker of the candle revealing a pale, shaking palm reaching out even as the glow of Anxiety’s eyes obscured much of his face. Deceit hesitated for just a second, he hadn’t initiated any physical contact with Anxiety in well over a year and Anxiety had never asked for it before. But he was asking now so Deceit met him. Slow, tentative gloved fingers curled into Anxiety’s hand and both sides resisted the momentary urge to pull back that had weaved its way into their instincts over the few years they'd known each other, relishing instead in the steady, seeping heat of the other’s hand in theirs.

Deceit came back to the couch, _carefully_ , and settled this time on the floor in front of the younger side. Predictably, Anxiety tensed at the proximity, but with the trembling hand in his own Deceit ran a soothing thumb over his knuckles and Anxiety let out a whining breath and slumped into the cushions beneath him. Deceit continued to rub Anxiety’s hand, massaging the palm and fingers beneath his own deliberately at first, eyes snapping to the younger side’s face with every other movement, and then absently when he eventually forgot to be tense. Anxiety resumed his careful, patterned breathing with Deceit listening on as it slowly, so slowly, began to lose its raspy quality and even out.

The silence between them settled comfortably in the room. Deceit didn’t realise he had begun dosing off until he felt a puff of air on his face, startling his eyes open as he lifted his head from where it was resting on the couch. He winced to himself, his neck complaining at the shift in angles, and he brought a hand to cradle it as he took in his position on the floor with a frown. Another puff ruffled his hair and he quickly turned to get a warm breath to the face, because that’s apparently what it was, as Anxiety slept on the couch above him. He didn’t look peaceful, he was restless even in sleep, but at least he _was_ asleep which was more than could be said of the night before.

A twitching finger drew his attention down to his captured hand, and if he were to be entirely honest with himself, something he rarely was this late at night, he could admit he was holding on just as tight as the other side. The angle was a little awkward, his glove was gaping at his wrist from being pulled by Anxiety's hand, but it was almost… nice. That being said, he had no intentions of sleeping on the floor though the idea of waking Anxiety was a worry. He flexed his fingers but Anxiety held tight, pulling his hand closer to his chest and objectively Deceit knew that the other side was strong but this was ridiculous. Wriggling wasn’t working so he gave an experimental tug, watching Anxiety's face for any kind of reaction, and he felt his hand slip inside his glove.

That could work.

With a delicate twist of his wrist he began to inch his way free of his glove. He held his breath as he worked, worrying with every step closer to freedom he would wake the other side, until finally he was out and he could stretch out his newly liberated hand. He only despaired a little bit when Anxiety's curled around the glove.

It wouldn't be too big of a deal to leave it, he reasoned, staring at the yellow fabric trapped in its bony prison. All he would have to do is get it back tomorrow if Anxiety hadn't already returned it. The real issue was figuring out how Anxiety would react to waking with it in his hand. That was always the difficulty and Deceit still hadn't quite gotten a grip on what Anxiety did and didn't consider worth reacting to. He could tie himself in more knots than he could count trying to figure out how Anxiety worried about things so he tried not to do that and instead work with the things he knew. What he _knew_ was that Anxiety didn't like to ask for things, and Deceit didn't think he'd respond well to the assumption that he had removed himself from his affection like a coyote chewing itself free from a trap.

He was saved the trouble of deciding when Anxiety flicked his wrist and the glove was suddenly dangling in the air in front of him. A sharp glance up revealed a tired smile in a too-tense face as the two sides blinked at each other in the dark.

"You could've woken me up." Anxiety mumbled, sounding amused despite the bags under his eyes and the tension that had never fully left his frame. Deceit kept his cool but inside he was squirming at the thought of being caught indecisive.

"You could have stayed awake." He retorted, the snorted laugh it prompted causing something like pride to settle in his chest.

"Sure." The glove wiggled in the air, recapturing Deceit's attention and reached up to pull it from the waiting hand. Once the glove was gone, Anxiety tucked his hand in more comfortably to his chest. "Sorry for making you sleep on the floor."

"So you should be." He answered, not bothering to put the glove back on as he fully intended to go straight to bed, but he lingered for a moment, making sure to himself that Anxiety was alright. His hand was cooling fast now that it was empty, faster than just from the removal of clothing, as the only bare section of skin other than his face. He didn’t give himself the time to think twice before reaching over to poke the back of Anxiety’s hand with one finger. “It’s _definitely_ an issue.” With that he retreated, hoping that Anxiety was blinking at him in understanding rather than bewilderment.

“Talk to me tomorrow when you're speaking straight.” Was all he said in answer and Deceit huffed a laugh, pulling himself to his feet to avoid Anxiety's lazy swats as he was shooed away.

That night after Deceit went to bed he was only woken up once more, a brief spike of tension that settled itself quickly and all-in-all, the night went much smoother than he had originally hoped.

Holding hands wasn’t something that the pair ever discussed the next day. It was more awkward in the light of day; eye contact was generally avoided the next few times it had happened. Every now and then, however, one of them _would_ reach out. An anxious hand would slip into the other’s. A comforting grip would encircle twitching fingers. A quick squeeze as they passed in the hall to snap them out of their thoughts. Eventually it became an unconscious gesture, something that didn’t need to be addressed when nothing negative was driving the action, or when it was used as a source of comfort when it was needed. It was a gentle point of contact, nothing that required much from either of them and was as easy to avoid as it was to initiate. Outside of this, physical contact was limited and Deceit could say that he was perfectly happy with that.

And then Remus arrived.


	2. Remus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is totally how you ask for hugs, Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little warning for the chapter because Remus is in it and I can't do Remus without at least a little bit of gore, apparently. Nothing graphic, this is a fluffy fic. There is just the tiniest bit of violence.

In those explosive first few days, while Deceit was getting used to Virgil and Anxiety used to Janus, the two original dark sides barely touched at all. Any potential quota that Virgil might have had was more than filled as their newest, restless resident launched himself around indiscriminately, and Janus’s hands were almost constantly full keeping Remus as far away from Virgil as possible.

Remus was learning, slowly, that if nothing else it was fun to direct his attentions towards Janus and in those early days that was about as much as Janus could hope for. If Remus looked ready to drape himself over Virgil, Janus would try to duck in under him unless Virgil was in a good enough position to fight him off instead. The muscles in his arms ached from the number of times a day he had to fully lift Remus, whether from heaving him off of the anxious side when their brawls got too heated or from having to catch him mid-air to spin him away in a different direction. The fact that Remus seemed to enjoy being thrown just as much as whatever scrap he inevitably got into with Virgil was becoming a problem but it was one he didn’t see a fix to yet.

If Remus wanted contact, he knew he had a better chance of it lasting if he aimed at Janus. If he wanted a fight, he aimed at Virgil. Either way, Janus spent a lot of his time _catching_ him.

It had taken several firm discussions with both of the younger sides before things started to calm back down. Ground rules were put in place. Virgil and Remus could eventually share a space without it being a certainty that one of them would pick a fight, the now-middle side seeming to grow to enjoy the impromptu wrestling matches when they weren’t sprung on him from behind. Things settled down, for the most part, into a level of chaos that could at least be observed with a level head if never controlled. Remus was getting better at approaching from the front to give fair warning, and Janus and Virgil were learning his tells.

He was impossible to predict, Janus rarely bothered trying, but in this one instance he was getting easier to react to.

The attention that Remus craved most often, and the way in which he sought it out, was aggressive in some form or other but was ultimately harmless. He liked to fight, he liked to scare, and he practically lived on shock value. The first (and for a long while only) time Virgil had grabbed his hand in a moment of panic, the duke had nearly thrown him clean across the room. It was a very hands-on way to learn that Remus also didn’t respond very well to surprise touches. This event also happened to prompt one of the only apologies that Virgil had ever heard leave the creative side’s mouth. There was a level of energy that always seemed to keep him on the edge of escalating and it rarely dipped, especially in moments of calm. He was always on the brink of action, teetering and pacing the middle of a seesaw which could tip suddenly to either side. Janus could have kicked himself for never suspecting that Remus could just jump to another part of the playpark.

The interaction started as it normally did and Janus had been watching out for it all day. Remus had been agitated since that morning. Virgil had retreated to his room, waiting for whatever was bothering him to either blow up or blow over, and Janus had been keeping an eye on him because it wasn’t often Remus was like this. The creative side had already rampaged through the Imagination, Janus had seen him stalking back to his room covered in more bodily fluids than he was sure he could name. This would usually be enough to take the edge off of his more violent moods, moods that he always worked through alone, and the fact the Remus _still_ felt the need to be alone was concerning. It was well into the evening before he re-emerged and he was distinctly _not calm_. Janus would go so far as to say he looked distressed.

Remus was pacing around the mouth of the hall when Janus spotted him, the other side having made an unusually quiet entrance, and he immediately put aside the notebook he had been working in to stand and meet him. He’d barely taken two steps before the other side noticed him, pivoting on his heel and rushing towards the yellow-clad side.

Janus just managed to brace himself before they both crashed onto the couch, Janus on his back with Remus’s arms wrapped too tight around his waist, the stronger side’s face planted flat in his stomach. The wind shot out of him as they landed and Remus’s added weight didn’t help as he struggled to retrieve it. He gripped tight to Remus’s arms and began to struggle, preparing himself to wrestle him off before he realised… the other side wasn’t fighting him.

He pushed at his arms, tried to jostled him with his legs, but Remus didn’t budge. He might not even be breathing with how hard he was pressing his face to Janus’s stomach but he was clearly still alive because he grunted in annoyance at Janus’s wiggling. Forcing himself to lie still for a moment, Janus waited for Remus’s next move.

It didn’t come.

Remus stayed where he was, squeezing his waist, the weight of his head making it uncomfortable but not impossible to breathe, and while he was annoyed at this, not sure why it was happening, Janus supposed this interaction could have gone worse.

“Remus.” He tried, shoving at the creative side’s arm which only latched on tighter like a limpet. Huffing in annoyance, he gave him another moment, getting bored and restless as the other side still refused to move. Remus was plastered down his front, every part of him below the ribs trapped beneath the stronger body. The eternally damp smell that clung to Remus’s skin was drifting up to his nose in heavy, unpleasant waves and he imagined he could feel it weaving into his clothes. The air was slowly growing stale around them and Janus could only be thankful that the grime Remus had been covered in before had been banished or cleaned off before he got here.

He reluctantly released Remus’s arms, ignoring his whine as he shoved at his head, not surprised when it barely moved. With a huff he threw his head back, staring despairingly at the ceiling as his fingers curled into the greasy hair beneath them. Remus’s body tensed and Janus’s followed suit. His eyes snapped back down to stare at the top of Remus’s head, his gloved fingers scratching along his scalp, and while before Remus hadn’t been budging, now he was _still_. Not knowing what to do, Janus scratched again and Remus went boneless on top of him, melting down like a lead casing over his front and Janus supposed… there wasn’t much he could do but work with that.

Hesitantly he ran his fingers through their youngest side’s hair, easing through the small knots that had somehow tangled into those short strands and pointedly not thinking about it when he felt he had worked something free. Now more than ever he was grateful for his gloves. The knowledge that they were slowly being coated was easier to handle than the sensation of it against his skin.

A few minutes passed in silence, by far the longest encounter he’d had with Remus without interruption and Janus was torn between enjoying the moment and being concerned. Remus hadn’t moved at all since he’d landed on top of him and Janus didn’t stop his gentle combing through his hair. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. He glanced over at his notebook on the table and made to reach of for it when Remus tightened his arms again. Janus scowled down at the top of his head.

“I want my book.” He told the top of his head. He didn’t get an answer but the grip slackened. As he stretched his arm to the table, Remus clung on once again, trapping his waist in an awkward squeeze that forced him back flat on the couch again. “ _Remus_.” He scolded but this time Remus stayed put, arms locked in place as he whined something high and unintelligible into his stomach.

Janus huffed, a mistake that allowed Remus’s arms to constrict with the movement. Conjuring a second pair of arms, he rested them over Remus’s to hold him steady. “I’m sure this is totally the fairest way this could be happing right now.” Remus reluctantly eased up and Janus braced himself against the other side’s arms as he was finally allowed to retrieve his notebook. Resting his forearm on Remus’s shoulder, his conjured arms wrapped loosely around Remus’s back, and his hand still petting through his hair, Janus settled himself down on the couch and prepared to wait out whatever it was the creative side was going through.

It was about half an hour before Virgil tentatively poked his head out of his bedroom.

Virgil eased himself into the room like he didn’t belong there, locking eyes on the strange little scene on the couch and Janus promptly abandoned his book once again.

He watched as the anxious side rounded the table, maintaining a distance between himself and the duke that voiced every trepidation he felt about this new dynamic between them. If Janus could chime in with own take on the direction this evening had taken without disturbing Remus then honestly he would have joined him in his scrutiny. As it stood, however, he had blanket of stinky creativity, one hand busy full of greasy hair, and another now dealing out reassuring squeezes as Virgil’s slipped into his as settled with a death-grip by his side.

“Is he breathing?” Was all Virgil asked, studying Remus’s prone form, looking for any kind of clue or movement that might suggest where he currently resided on the spectrum of life.

“He’s not dead.” A shallow reassurance, and that was about as much as he could offer, a token that Virgil only accepted because it was _Remus_ they were talking about.

Virgil’s nose wrinkled and Janus couldn’t blame him. It didn’t take long for a cloud to form around Remus whenever he stayed too still. “He smells like he’s dead.”

“I think he had something dead on him earlier.” It was a credit to Virgil and how far he’d come in getting used to the creative side that he was only disgusted with that statement instead of questioning it. He slumped against the couch with a grumble, distrusting but accepting of the situation for now. After a few minutes of the smell getting more tolerable and relaxing enough to get bored Virgil eased his hand from Janus’s hold and sat with his back to the couch. Snagging the remote from the table, he set the TV to quietly play a documentary that was 100% not based in fact which he would argue with Janus about later until he was blue and Janus won.

The room filled with useless information that Virgil would take with him to his grave. Above him, Janus flicked idly back and forth through his notebook not reading a word, and Remus, otherwise unresponsive, soaked the factoids in like a particularly eager sponge.

They had reached the second ad break before Remus finally retracted his arms, startling Janus into lifting his own from around him and untangling his fingers from his hair. The creative side stayed where he was for a long moment, Janus blinking down at him as he waited to see what he would finally do after lying, unmoving, for so long. Removing potential restraints proved to be the right choice for Janus as Remus indulged in a languid stretch before rolling off of the couch, clobbering Virgil underneath who was bent painfully in half with Remus lodged between him and the back of the couch.

Curses flew beneath him as Janus peeled off his glove, throwing it in the vague direction of the kitchen, the other soon following. He would really need a shower, he thought as Virgil managed to unwedge himself from under the duke, feet and fists pounding against a larger chest before the assailant was scooped up onto a broad shoulder. His entire outfit might need burned in all honesty. Janus sat up neatly as Virgil was slammed into the cushion where his head would have been. The middle side didn’t stay seated for long. No sooner had he hit the couch he was out of it again, launching himself back into Remus’s waiting arms and they crashed down onto the floor.

The laundry could wait; a shoe hurtled past him. Right now, more that anything, he _needed_ that shower. With a stretch of his own, his back clicking in several places and his legs antsy with pins and needles, Janus wandered off down the hall, shrugging his cape off as he went. Next time Remus decided to make him into a mattress he was demanding he washed first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update for anyone here from the main fic, there's not going to be a new chapter over there today, I've had to work out a few issues with it, I'm aiming for Saturday? But again, I can't really promise much because this has been a weird couple weeks. Please know that I am still working on it, this is just one of those chore chapters where I've written half and I'm trying to make the other half fit, it's been super fun XD Thank you for your patience, honestly. And I hope you're enjoying this in the meantime. (super proud btw, got a 2222 word count again. Just sayin.)
> 
> As usual, come say hi on tumblr, I'm there under the same username, and I'm posting updates there as I go along.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I'll see you again soon! x


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus finally got the hug he deserved but potentially not the one he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note! 
> 
> Remus behaves rather inappropriately in this chapter and does not follow civilised cuddle etiquette. As such there are some very brief, mild suggestive/sexual tones but they are moved on from just as quickly. Please let me know if you feel this should be tagged more than it currently has been. 
> 
> That being said, please enjoy x

Everything about today sucked.

It was poring outside of Thomas’s house. Wet air seeped through the walls, through blankets and clothes and bones and made him ache. Remus, of course, loved it. The noise of the storm against the windows. The water dredged in from outside seeping into the carpet, the feeling of it under unsuspecting toes. The way the house gave a tiny lurch with the wind, pulling at the windows for that one, breath-stealing second where you thought they were going to break free. Janus couldn’t care less about any of it. He just hated how fricking _cold_ it was.

Remus was in his element; the Imagination was raining hard enough to flood a village outside the living room window but Remus hadn’t stopped it there. The illusion from the window had been pulled over the entire house, the noise and cold and wet surrounding the dark side of the mindscape in every unpleasant way it could. There was no crackle of fire or hum of a radiator, no clicking of gas pipes or heat in the air. It was just cold and Janus didn’t _do_ cold. He was perfectly aware of how easily jokes could fly, Janus the snake boy couldn’t deal without heat, but that barely had anything to do with it. Maybe he was more susceptible, he didn’t know. There were plenty of non-snake people in the world who hated the cold, who found it difficult to keep warm, who simply _disliked_ the effort of doing so. All that he cared about was the fact that it was _cold_. And he didn’t like it.

The kettle was whining away, bubbling well past its limit line because Virgil wasn’t there to panic over imaginary appliances malfunctioning. Janus had a very large hot water bottle to fill and a desperate need for tea and he was not waiting for it to boil twice, it was taking long enough as it was. The house juddered again and Janus couldn’t help but grit his teeth in annoyance. Virgil had betrayed him; he thought he would have an ally in the anxious side against Remus’s creative license with their home but the last he’d seen of him he was napping under the window, practically comatose with the white noise of rain flooding his mind. He startled every now and then with the louder claps of thunder but for the most part he was enjoying himself.

He tugged his cape around him like a blanket, his arms crossed defensively against the cold as he willed some of the little heat in his arms to stay trapped against his stomach. Behind him, the deliberate scuff of a shoe on flood boards whispered into the room and he didn’t need to turn to know it was Virgil. The anxious side was generally good for making some kind of noise to announce his presence because otherwise it was barely noticeable. If Virgil wanted to be alone, or if he was feeling vengeful, he could hide away, slinking around as quiet and eager to welcome as the grave. Otherwise, he had gotten used to giving a heads up and lurking in the peripheral vision of those he was trying _not_ to scare hadn’t really been cutting it. Dragging his feet a bit not only added to his overall aesthetic, it gave at least a little warning for when he was coming too.

The scuffing steps made there way closer and weirdly closer for Virgil and Janus found himself frowning, about to turn and investigate when stiff, awkward arms wrapped themselves around his waist. A bony chin poked into his shoulder as he tensed against the body behind them, his eyes dropping down to identify the hoodie-clad arms before turning his head to see that yes, Virgil appeared to be hugging him. He didn’t know who was more uncomfortable about the situation.

Not knowing how to respond, he gave Virgil’s hand an awkward pat, appreciating the fact that Virgil was still very warm from his napping if nothing else.

“I realised it’s really cold and you hate cold.” Virgil explained, his face burning as he hid just out of Janus’s line of sight.

Janus felt conflicted about that. Not necessarily in a bad way, more in the way the Grinch might have felt conflicted when his heart grew. It felt nice to have something like that recognised; he spent _a lot_ of time chasing after the other two sides. He was the eldest but only by a few years, and he felt he was expected to know the answers, to be in control of things, to be the one responsible for most of the reaching out in their dynamic. It felt _really nice_ to be the one on the receiving end. But naturally he wasn’t about to mention it. Instead, he let himself relax a little bit in the embrace, enjoying the warmth that was soaking into his clothes, pressed tight against his skin, as the kettle finally, _finally_ , boiled. Virgil’s arms stayed around his waist and his chin was once again lodged in his shoulder as he watched Janus reach for the kettle.

He didn’t offer Virgil a cup but he poured him one anyway. Remus could drink dishwater for creating this hell for him. He’d probably appreciate it. The rest went into his hot water bottle which was promptly wedged in under Virgil’s arms as they waited for the tea to steep.

“I thought you were Remus trying to sneak in.” He admitted, crossing his arms over Virgil’s as they stood, the walls and ceiling still pounding with the sound of rain. The tremors through the house were slowly deescalating, Remus must finally be getting bored of the illusion, and wrapped up as he was, Janus was almost warm enough to see the appeal of the storm. Behind him, Virgil snorted out a laugh.

“I don’t think Remus is capable of sneaking.” He quipped, Janus’s answering hum vibrating into his chest as he lifted his head from his shoulder. Squishing his cheek into his shoulder blade, Virgil allowed himself a small smirk at the thought before a shriek tore out of his throat. Remus stood casually behind them and Virgil flinched back hard, his grip on Janus was the only thing that kept him upright but he nearly took him down with him.

“I can be quiet when I want to be.” Remus happily informed, a little redundantly, and plucked the teabag out of Janus’s cup and bit into it. Mouth and teeth full of the scalding tea leaves, he pointed between the two of them. “You two screwin’?”

Virgil flew away from Janus with a strangled “no!”, taking the hot water bottle with him as Janus rolled his eyes and offered Remus the other teabag on a spoon. He barely blinked as Remus bent down to suction it into his mouth.

“Why yes, Remus. How did you guess?” He drawled, throwing the spoon into the sink and grabbing another one to finish preparing the tea.

“How long have you been standing there, you creep?” Virgil snapped, pulling his hood up to hide his embarrassment from the other sides.

“Just long enough to see you two getting snoogly.” He teased, latched on to the topic and refusing to let it go as he began shimmying over to Virgil. The storm outside was fluctuating with Remus’s flighty attention, the cold lifting and settling in the house and grating at Janus’s skull with aches like it was being coated in the dry, flaking ice of an overnight freeze. He briefly blocked Remus’s pursuit with an outstretched arm, snagging his water bottle from Virgil before leaving with his tea. The heat of the bottle hugged against his stomach and the mug soaking into his hand took some of the edge off of the cold and his mood and he was all for trudging to his own room where Remus had the least effect when the side in question launched himself around his shoulders.

Hot liquid lapped up his arm and he hissed in pain and anger as he tried to spin around to confront him. Remus remained latched to his shoulders, dragged from side to side as Janus chased his limp body around himself. “I just _love_ what we’re doing right now.” He snarled, awkwardly swapping the mug in his hand to the other to shake some of the regrettably cold air into his even more regrettably hot glove.

“I do too!” Remus cooed, scrambling further up Janus’s shoulders and Janus decreed the mug both a lost cause and a danger to itself and others. He dropped it to the side and reached up to get a hold on Remus and peel him off, desperate to stabilise himself as they staggered in the hallway. It was inevitable that they wouldn’t make it; it was no sooner that Janus had discarded his mug that he lost his footing, careening to the ground and landing heavily on top of Remus who didn’t seem put out in the slightest at the change in altitude. Legs wrapped around his waist like the demonic koala Remus was once again proving himself to be as a tea-soaked kiss was planted in his hair. 

“I didn’t know you were cold, snakesicle!” The yell was far too loud in his ears, grating in that special way that was all Remus, as Virgil appeared hovering awkwardly over them both. “I can warm you up.” Remus finished suggestively, wriggling underneath him.

“Ok! _Do not_ let go. Now.” He could _hear_ Remus pouting behind him, his hips never ceasing their (for now) innocent gyrating until Janus jabbed an elbow deep into his gut. Reluctantly, the legs holding onto him eased off and Janus raised a hand up to Virgil who took it and pulled.

Remus was suspiciously compliant, rising up behind Janus and allowing him to be lifted until he was sitting upright. Janus only realised it in the moment of stillness between sitting and being pulled up and tensed in preparation, his hand locked onto Virgil’s, as Remus threw himself back down into the ground, yanking Janus and Virgil by extension down after him. Virgil collapsed onto Janus in an impact that knocked the wind out of both of them as Remus’s too-long legs wrapped around both of them.

Virgil’s flailing on top of him managed to tip them to the side, the three of them caught in an awkward three-way-spoon in the hallway as Remus’s leg dug into Janus’s side, his and Virgil’s hands were trapped painfully between their bodies, and Remus’s elbows knocked into Virgil’s head with every squirm and struggle he gave until Janus couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a particularly happy laugh, more stressed and annoyed than anything, but he couldn’t help but be swayed by the pleased cackles rumbling under his back. His own laughs softened, whooshing out of him through Virgil’s hair and tickling his scalp until he was squirming and laughing along as well.

It was ridiculous, and he hated to believe that Remus could have planned this in any way, but he was warm for the first time since that stupid storm had started. It was probably a fortunate consequence of wildly inconvenient hijinks but the result, as painful as it had been to come to, was ultimately rather nice. He was pressed between steady heat both front and back, his attention suitably redirected from the cold as the three evil sides lay giggling like children in a heap on the floor.

Janus’s back was the first to start dishing out complaints with Virgil verbalising them soon after. The scramble to get up included far more jabs from knees and elbows than was strictly necessary. Remus was sent to the kitchen, with Virgil sent directly after him, to remake his tea while Janus banished the mess from the hall and redirected his earlier retreat to the couch instead, plucking his blanket from the armrest and draping it around his shoulders to keep in some of the heat from earlier as he waited for his tea. Remus’s newfound ability to sneak was a bit concerning, he had to admit, and he watched the door to the kitchen carefully as he listened to the retreating rain.

It had stopped raining in the real-world hours ago and he could almost be impressed with how long Remus had dedicated himself to illusion. Virgil had been enjoying it, though, so maybe it wasn’t as impressive as it was a rare nicety directed towards the anxious side. Regardless, Janus was glad it was nearly over, he could hear the rain retreating back along the roof though outside the window it continued to pour.

Remus emerged first from the kitchen, barrelling over to Janus with his hot water bottle clamped between his teeth as the contents of his own mug sloshed dangerously in his hands. From the watery specks now pockmarking the floor, Janus could only assume it was leaves from their teabags, and reached up to put his bottle free before it could meet a similar fate.

Virgil appeared soon after, passing Janus’s mug down to him and settling down, acting for all the world like nothing had happened which, he supposed, was kind of true.

Just another day and another thing to get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to university for 5 years and I can safely say that the only skill I left with was the ability to meet a word count dead on.  
> I hope you enjoyed this wildly indulgent cuddle fic! Janus finally gets a hug! As I said before, let me know if you think Remus should be tagged more explicitly? I think I got it but I want to be sure.  
> Thank you for reading and for your patience with uploading. These are the bad times! But I'm determined to either pull myself through it or pull something trying.   
> As always, come say hi on tumblr, I'm there under the same username. I generally post any delays or updates as they happen over there. If you're here for the main fic, I'm still working on it! I promise it hasn't been abandoned x  
> Til next time!

**Author's Note:**

> I do it for the gays and the serotonin. This is totally not what I was working on instead of posting on time. I would never.  
> I'll update with Remus's tags next chapter but they wont be bad.  
> Come say hi on tumblr, I'm there under the same username.  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! x


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